


Secret Santa

by yellow_wallpaper



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Real Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:03:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_wallpaper/pseuds/yellow_wallpaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secret Santa. Although it's not even near Christmas I couldn't resist writing this cute short story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Santa

George hummed thoughtfully, turning the plain package over in his hands. He had hoped it would give him some inkling to whom it might have been from, but there was no such luck. He carefully picked at one corner, a giddy feeling overtaking his initial apprehension and he suddenly felt like a little kid on Christmas day again. He hastily tore away the layers to reveal a simple cardboard box, and inside that box was....

A camera!

Who knew George liked to take pictures?

 

George went back into the main hotel room, where Brian, the bands manager was arranging various pens and envelopes.

“It’s a writing set, isn’t it charming?” Brian proclaimed proudly.

“Perfect for creating those letterheads, yeah?” George replied smugly. He was just thankful he didn’t end up with that present. Stationary just didn’t do anything for him.

Brian nodded. “Just what I needed really. Someone must know me pretty well!” He laughed.

 

Ringo found his present on the top of his bedside table. It was rather flat and quite lightweight. He wasted no time in tearing the paper open, a wide grin spreading across his features as he felt the familiar material. New drum skins!

Ringo felt a rush of gratitude. Someone must have been listening when he’d mentioned about the current state of the drums he currently owned.

Now, who could it be?

 

Ringo joined George back in the main room. “So what did ya get?” He asked George, playfully ribbing him in the side. George held his new camera up proudly so the other could see.

“A new camera! Can you believe it? I’m gonna start snapping straight away. Maybe a few of that park outside, looked quite nice, didn’t it?” He went to peer out of the hotel window, just catching sight of a black taxi cab pulling up outside.

“Ooh-eh, that must be John an’ Paul.” Said Ringo, hearing the cab doors slam. John was the first to emerge, lugging his guitar and travel bag with him. Paul followed, carrying his guitar and various bits of paper tucked under his arms.

 

John was exhausted. He and Paul had rehearsed continuously through breakfast and lunch, swapping song ideas and working on the melodies for the new album. Amidst all this, Ringo had insisted on doing a secret Santa, to which John had rolled his eyes and casually stated he would get someone something only if he remembered. ‘I just won’t think about it. It’s kinda silly, really.’ He had reasoned to himself. True to his word, John never did think about it. Until the dawning realization that the day had arrived and yet he had still not bought anything.

It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it had, but it did.

So here he was, exhausted from a long rehearsal and from running around needlessly for some bloody present for some bloody secret Santa.

“Afternoon ladies” John crowed as he heaved his guitar over the threshold.

“Afternoon John.” came the disjointed reply. Everyone far too engrossed in their new gifts to give him their full attention.

John went to his room, fully intending to lie flat out on the bed and take a nap. He would rely on Paul to wake him should there be food around. He stopped short when he caught sight of a brightly coloured package placed on his bed. He picked it up gingerly, testing the weight in his hands, his interest piquing tenfold.

 

Paul blew out a puff of air in exertion. He was pretty tired, but nothing a stiff drink wouldn’t fix.

“No way you got a camera!” Paul exclaimed as he laid eyes on the small device George was fiddling with.

“Yeah! Smile!” and shoved the camera in Paul’s face. George smirked. “Ah beautiful that, can’t wait to see that one.” Paul shot him a mock glare before breaking out in a grin.

“Aye Ringo, you got new drum skins?” Ringo raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, so it wasn’t you then?”

“Nope.” Paul said, popping the p.

“Hum” and his eyes fell on Mal who was glancing their way with an amused expression.

“What about my camera?” George said, waving it around.

“Well what do you think?” Paul asked.

Both Beatles looked at each other for a moment.

“It wasn’t you.” George said. His eyes flicked to Ringo before settling on their manager. “No way Eppy, you actually _bought_ me this!?” and everyone in the room cracked up, even Brian had to chuckle. Everyone knew how tight their manager was with money.

“I got you that writing stuff, you like it?” Ringo piped up. Brian nodded.

“Thank you, Ringo. That was very thoughtful of you.”

"And I'm willing to bet George got me the cigarette case, right?" Mal said.

"Yeah! that was me." George laughed.

 

At this point, Paul slipped from the room. He was excited to open his present and show everyone what he’d received. His eyes swept over his hotel room, a slight flutter of disappointment settling in the pit of his stomach when he could not immediately locate any sign of a present for him. He went over to his dresser and poured himself a short drink, taking a quick look under the bed and in his wardrobe just in case. Just when there was a soft knock on the door, and John shuffled into the room clutching, Paul realised, his gift from himself. Paul had bought John a Buddy Holly style guitar. It was a pain to get; Paul having to go through every dealer to find a vintage guitar of that style from the year 1957.

“You like it?’ Paul said quickly, hoping to cover up the fact that he had been down a moment ago.

“Yeah, yeah.” John said absently. “Thanks.” He added.

Paul nodded. John seemed to hover by the doorway for a moment, before deciding to come into the room and carefully place the guitar on the bed. Paul went to take another cautious sip from his drink, but the glass was almost knocked out of his hand and he sputtered and cursed when he felt the liquid run down his arm. Only after one bewildered moment did he realise what was happening. John was hugging him. Paul returned the gesture, which was uncommon for both men to say the least. In their eyes guys didn't hug other guys. Especially tough guys from the Liverpool estate.

"Thank you. I love it. Really." He said again with such sincerity Paul had to wonder if he had ever received gifts from people before.

"Come along then, Macca."

"Where are we going?"

"Need to show you something." When they arrived in John's room he flung the doors to his wardrobe open and stood in front of them, arms spread wide. Paul simply stood there, confused.

"I don't want your old clothes, John."

"No no you daft git look-" He took his suitcase filled with song compositions, instruments and various books and spilled them on to the bed. "Everything that is mine is now yours, too." John said simply. "Anything and everything you would like. Jewelry, art..."

Paul had picked up a tattered leather bound copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass_ by Lewis Carroll.

"I studied poetry in English class you know, and I've always wanted to read this." He said, flipping through the pages. He paused when he came across an illustration in the book.

"Yeah?" for some reason John felt pride swell in his chest at the comment. "Was me favourite book when I was little."'

But Paul found the book not only contained the original illustrations to accompany the text, but little annotations and drawings by the owner as well. John saw what he was looking at and looked a bit sheepish.

"Er- I got bored when I was little, thought I'd colour a few." But these were amazing, swirls of colour and lines coming straight from John's head on to paper, an insight into what he was thinking. It was inspirational. Paul turned a page. "The walrus and the carpenter..." Paul murmured, amused and intrigued all at once. He sighed. "Well, c'mon then, you owe me a drink."

John laughed. "So I do. But not one from the hotel. Let's go out on the town for a proper drink, aye?" Paul agreed, the old book tucked safely under his arm.

**Author's Note:**

> So just to round up:
> 
> Paul gave John a guitar.  
> John gave Paul his books on Lewis Carroll.  
> George gave Mel a cigarette case.  
> Brian gave George a camera.  
> Mel gave Ringo new drum skins.  
> Ringo gave Brian stationary.


End file.
